Rowaelin Child Prequel
by trilogiesrule
Summary: Connected oneshots that precede a story that I will be writing about Aelin and Rowan's child in her teenage years. (A lot of) Rowaelin fluff, but not the purpose of the story.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I've been entertaining the idea of a story about Rowan and Aelin's child for a while now, but that was mostly going to center around the child, who I named Myshe (the y makes a long "i" sound). But this is a prequel and is mostly about Myshe as a baby, toddler and young child. Will contain Rowaelin fluff, but I've never written fluff before, so please tell me how I do! Updates are irregular.**

A tiny child's wails woke Aelin up. She groaned, rolling over in her sleep. Her daugher, Myshette, was a four-month old, happy baby fae. Which meant a lot of work for Aelin and her mate, Rowan.

Aelin shook Rowan awake. He opened an eye and muttered something inaudible.

"What?" Aelin asked.

"She's crying," he mumbled. Aelin rolled her eyes. "That she is, buzzard. Could you please grab her?" Rowan opened both eyes and turned to face her. The corners of his lips twitched up.

 _If you give me a kiss,_ his eyes said playfully. Aelin rolled her eyes again.

"Rowan, our four month old is wailing her throat off and you want to kiss me?" Rowan nodded, still smiling.

"Or you could get her yourself," he offered. Aelin humphed. It was too cold to get out of bed. She leaned down and pressed her lips against Rowan's and felt him smile. Aelin wanted to punch him in the gut. But she couldn't, because he was her mate. She pulled away.

"Now go get Myshe," Aelin ordered. Rowan complied, walking to the bassinet across the room. He reached down and picked up his daughter, holding her head up, as she still couldn't hold it up herself. The baby screamed louder, wanting her mother. Aelin grinned, her eyes still heavy from lack of sleep.

"Sexist child," Rowan muttered. "I think I know what she wants." Rowan walked over to their bed and handed Myshe to Aelin. She pulled down the hem of her shirt-it was Rowan's actually-and laid Myshe on her breast. Rowan's eyes weren't on Aelin's face.

Aelin cleared her throat. Rowan moved his eyes up to Aelin's.

 _What?_ He asked innocently. Aelin snorted. Rowan moved onto the bed and laid down beside Aelin, but Aelin's attention was on her daughter. She stroked her hand through Myshe's hair and down her back. Aelin felt Rowan's eyes on her, watching her. She didn't care. Suddenly, Myshe started wailing again. Because she was only four months old, Myshe's cries were quiet, and if Aelin was being honest with herself, downright adorable. But she didn't have any more...milk. And Myshe was still hungry. Aelin glanced at Rowan. Rowan shrugged uncomfortably. He knew just as little as Aelin about being a parent.

"Umm...should I get a healer?" he asked finally. Aelin felt her face heat up.

"Uh, no," she answered, "I think I'll just try to get her to fall asleep." Aelin spent the next ten minutes trying to soothe Myshe and get her to sleep, but to no avail.

"Let me try," Rowan offered. Aelin handed their baby to Rowan, but Myshe started screeching with a new intensity once she left her mother's arms. Aelin shrugged, trying to hide her smile. She saw Rowan scowl, so she probably didn't succeed.

Eventually, Aelin managed to get Myshe to calm down, but she wouldn't leave her mother. Rowan was too close to sleep to be bothered, so Aelin just sighed through her nose and held her daughter, hoping to get just a few more hours of sleep in. As much as Aelin loved her daughter, she was a lot of work.

 **AN: I tried.**

 **If you want to read a pregnancy fic, I suggest** _ **Pregnant**_ **by thedawncourt. It's in my favorited section, and you can get there by clicking on** trilogiesrule **underneath the story title and then scrolling down and clicking on favorites.**

 **Reviews?**


	2. Chapter 2

Aelin curled up around her plate of chocolate cake. She managed to sneak it past Rowan, who was still sparring with some of the palace guards. Myshe was out in the garden with Lysandra, so she had her chambers all to herself. Aelin had snagged a book from the bookshelf in the corner of her room before she made it to her bed, and she flipped it to her favorite part. She'd already read this one about a thousand times, but it was her favorite.

Lifting her fork to her mouth, Aelin almost didn't catch his scent. Almost. She whipped her head up to see Rowan walking through the door of their bedroom. Aelin didn't bother to hide the cake-she was sure Rowan could already smell it.

"Aelin, the amount of cake you consume cannot be healthy," he muttered, unbuckling his sword belt.

"I'll work it off in training," Aelin said through a mouth full of food, waving her hand in dismissal.

"You're going to get fat." Aelin raised an eyebrow, knowing that Rowan hated it when she did that.

"Oh? More ass for you to grab, then," she replied. Rowan crossed his arms, but made no move to reply.

"What are you reading?" he asked finally, glancing down at her hands. Aelin watched as her mate made his way over to their bed, oh-so-casually shutting the book and sliding it away from Rowan. Rowan snorted, trying to reach over Aelin to grab it, but she intercepted him with a kiss. Aelin felt him lay down beside her, not breaking the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and twirled his hair around her fingers. Rowan groaned, moving his hands down her back. Lower.

Aelin broke away, needing to breathe. She pressed her forehead against Rowan's and closed her eyes, breathing in his scent.

"We don't have any council meetings for the rest of the day," Aelin murmurmed.

"Yes," Rowan whispered, brushing his lips against hers, "but we need to pick up Myshe in a few minutes." Aelin sighed and pulled away. She didn't want to stop, and could see that Rowan didn't, either.

Because Rowan didn't break eye contact with her, Aelin failed to notice him reaching over to pick up her book.

"Now it's time to find out what you were reading," he said with a faint smirk. Rowan read the title out loud. "The same one you always read? Wait-is this the one with sex every other chapter?" Aelin snorted.

"No. That's the one third from the right on the second shelf," she replied, grinning. Rowan rolled his eyes and stood up, muttering something about Aelin and her reading habits. Aelin stood up and stretched, arching her back. Rowan eyed her lithe body as she bent down to pick up the now empty plate. "You can wait until tonight, buzzard," she said without turning around. Rowan arched an eyebrow.

"Is that a promise, Fireheart?" he asked. Rowan walked over to Aelin and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Aelin grinned and turned around.

"I dunno. Depends on if I feel like it." Rowan growled and pressed his lips to Aelin's. Aelin sighed onto his mouth. "I think I'll probably feel like it." Rowan smirked and unwrapped his arms from her waist.

"Let's go pick up Myshe," he told his mate. Aelin walked out with him.

Rowan walked out of their chambers, Aelin at his side. He forced...certain thoughts away as he went to pick up his daughter.

Rowan loved the gardens. There was something incredibly pleasing about being alone with your thoughts, surrounded by nature. Not that any of that compared to Aelin.

Soon enough, the mates stumbled across Myshe, who was sitting in Lysandra's lap, telling the shape shifter stories.

"...an 'en, we went to a clothes sop and met a reewy nice 'irl-DADDY!" Myshe's nose flared as Rowan's sent hit her. Aelin watched in astonishment as Myshe ran as fast her her two little legs could carry her toward her father. Rowan scooped her up, but was careful to keep up his fae male persona around Lysandra.

"Hey," he cooed. "How are you?" Myshe grinned, and in that moment, Rowan thought she looked exactly like her mother.

"Hey! What am I?" Aelin asked, slightly pissed off. "Chopped ilken?" Myshe looked at her, puzzled, while Rowan gave Aelin a warning glance.

"What's ilking?" Myshe asked. Aelin gave her a stern look.

"We don't repeat anything Mommy says," she said matter of factly. Myshe tilted her head, and Rowan had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Lady Lysandra can do a pig nose," Myshe announced, apparently changing the subject to fit her interests. "Can you do a pig nose, Daddy?" Rowan raised an eyebrow.

"No. But I can turn into a bird," he pointed out.

"Can _you_ do a pig nose, Mommy?" Myshe asked, turning to Aelin. Lysandra was laughing silently a few feet over.

"Uh, no," Aelin answered.

"Can you do a bird?" she pressed. Rowan could tell that Aelin was getting mildly annoyed, but his lips were pressed into a thin smile.

"No," she answered flatly. "I turn into a human."

"Not as good as a birdie," Myshe said, shaking her head sadly. Aelin gaped at her.

"It's time for us to go back to our rooms," Rowan told Myshe. She began to squirm in his arms.

"Put me down! Let go! No! I don't want to go back to our wooms!" Rowan made eye contact with Aelin.

 _I'll take her back._ Aelin nodded in thanks. Rowan walked upstairs, Myshe still squirming.

"Was she in your way?" Aelin asked Lysandra as soon as Rowan was out of sight with their daughter.

"No, she was fine," Lysandra laughed, "but I think she wants to be a shapeshifter now." Aelin snorted. "Well, I've got something going on, so..." Aelin nodded.

"Okay. Thanks for entertaining Myshette." Lysandra nodded.

"Sure. She's really sweet," she told Aelin.

Aelin was about to thank her, but she noticed Lysandra's breasts suddenly getting a little bigger. Aelin raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Lysandra asked innocently. A slow smile spread across Aelin's face.

"You're going to see Aedion, aren't you?" she asked, grinning. Lysandra turned pink.

"No," she protested.

"Then why did you-"

"Alright, fine," Lysandra interrupted, turning redder than before. "Yes, I'm meeting Aedion. But nothing's going to happen." Aelin smirked.

"I'd hope so, Lysandra, because we've got a pretty important council meeting tomorrow. You and Aedion both need to be there. And if I smell anything on you..." Lysandra rolled her eyes through her blush, but she was grinning.

"Shut up, _Majesty_ ," Lysandra snorted. Aelin raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Is that how we're going to play, _Lady_ Lysandra?" The two girls started laughing. That was how Aedion found the two of them a few seconds later.

"Uh, Ly-Aelin!" he said, turning red. "Hi? I didn't think you'd be here..."

"And you knew Lysandra would be?" Aelin smirked. "I see. Well, enjoy your ride," she said to Lysandra, walking off. Aelin only regretted not being able to see her and Aedion's faces.

 **AN: Very fluffy.**

 **I'm going to post a fic of** _ **Throne of Glass**_ **fluff in general sometime this weekend (probably today).**

 **Tell me if you thought it was too cheesy, or if it was choppy and didn't have enough transitions.**

 **Reviews? I love them very much.**


	3. Chapter 3

Myshe sat up, gasping. There was that dream again. She whimpered to herself. It was always scary when that fae female came and chased her with that magic. Myshe rolled over, trying to fall asleep.

After a few minutes of fruitlessly trying to shove thoughts of the female out of her head, she pushed her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet dangling above the edge. Mysh dropped to the ground, her feet hitting the cold floor. She shivered, feeling exposed. The Crown Princess of Terrasen crept to her door. She knew she was supposed to go to her nursemaid first if she had nightmares, but when she asked why, her mom just coughed and dropped her eyes, telling her daughter that she would tell her when she was older. That was always the answer. "I'll tell you when you're older." Myshe didn't see any reason as to why she couldn't go to her parents, so she decided to do so. She walked down the (despite the fact that this was the Royal Family's quarters) drafty hallway, getting closer to her parents' room.

That was when she heard a noise. She had never heard that sound before, but her mom sounded...hurt. She ran the rest of the way to the door. Suddenly, the noise stopped, and was replaced with frantic rustling. She opened the door, and a smell slammed into her face. Myshe wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Mama?" she asked quietly, her eyes unable to pick out her parents' bed in the dark.

"Yes, Myshe?" came her mother's voice. She sounded as if it was taking all of her effort not to sound irritated. Suddenly, the courage that made the princess walk into her parents' room faded.

"Umm...Ihadascarydream," she mumbled. She heard the queen exhale softly. Myshe was finally able to pinpoint the bed. Her mother was sitting up, her shoulders bare. The covers covered her chest. Myshe's father was sitting up, too, his chest bare, but the covers were concealing his waist.

"I'll come to your room in a minute," her mother sighed.

Aelin watched as Myshe walked out of the room. She exhaled through her teeth and flopped down on the bed.

"Are you going to go to her?" Rowan asked, doing his best, but failing, to sound like he wasn't annoyed. Aelin turned and looked at him. Her face must have been contorted into some ridiculous expression, because he snorted. "We'll finish after you calm her." Aelin traced the tattoos on his chest.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I'll get dressed." Aelin got out of bed, and moving slowly and seductively to drive Rowan insane, she went to the closet and slipped on a (concealing) nightgown. The queen heard a growl from behind her, and smirking, turned around to see Rowan. He reached out and grabbed Aelin's shoulders, pulling her towards him. She purred as his lips found her neck, but she pulled away quickly. "I have to go to Myshe," she whispered. Rowan stepped away quickly and went back to the bed. Aelin rolled her eyes. He was so afraid of Myshe smelling...things...on them, but at this point, there was no way she hadn't smelled it yet.

Aelin slipped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. She walked to Myshe's room. Past the dining area, past the living room, all the way to the end of the hallway. Aelin knocked at her daughter's door.

"Come in," Myshe's small voice called. Aelin walked in and saw Myshe curled up against her headboard, blankets around her. Suddenly, Aelin felt bad about lingering with Rowan. Myshe looked so helpless. So alone. Aelin held out her hand and tendrils of warm fire hovered above it. Myshe snapped her eyes to it, her eyes widening. She was mesmerized. Aelin smiled, despite herself.

"You like the fire, sweetie?" Aelin asked. Myshe nodded excitedly. Aelin walked over to her daughter's bed and sat down on the edge. She moved her hand down, keeping the fire a few inches from Myshe's face. Aelin stroked the top of her daughter's head. The small fae stared at the fire, amazed.

"Can I do fire, Mama?" Myshe asked excitedly, turning to look at her mother. The question hit Aelin hard. She wasn't sure what magic Myshe possessed. She had to have _some_ , though. Her and Rowan were both very powerful fae, but Aelin felt doubts creeping in. By the time she was Myshe's age, she was accidentally setting buildings on fire. Myshe never shifted into...anything, and she had never showed any signs of magic. Perhaps she was just a late bloomer.

"I don't know, Myshe," she muttered. "Probably. Maybe you can do wind or ice."

"When grown-ups say maybe, it means no," she pointed out. Aelin snorted.

"When _Daddy_ says maybe, it means no. When I say maybe, it means maybe."

"Well..." Myshe pondered, clearly not convinced.

"Do you think the scary dreams will come back?" Aelin asked her quietly, allowing herself to think that the princess would be alright for a while. Myshe went rigid. Aelin silently cursed herself. She shouldn't have mentioned anything.

"There's a...a female," Myshe whispered. "She doesn't have a face...and...and she has magic...I don't wanna talk about it. It's really sc-scary." A sob escaped Myshe's throat. Her face was contorted into a pained expression. It killed Aelin to see her like this. Her daughter usually kept up a tough facade, even if it wasn't always convincing.

Aelin thought back to about a month ago, when Myshe had skinned her knee on the floor after sliding around on her socks. She had heard her bawling from down the hallway thanks to her fae hearing, but when she went to see what was wrong, only the scent of tears and a fresh wound remained. Myshe had acted like she was fine.

Aelin wrapped her arms around her daughter. She was so small, so fragile.

"Shh..." she murmured. "It's all right. It's not real." Aelin hated the words that spewed from her mouth. She remembered when it was her who was sobbing and Rowan who was comforting. When it wasn't all right. When it _was_ real. "Did you know sometimes I get scary dreams?" Myshe looked at her through her tears.

"R-really?" she blubbered. Aelin nodded. "D-does Daddy get scary dreams, too?"

A soft knock came from the door. Aelin whipped her head around. Myshe protested as Aelin's hair whipped her in the face.

"Sorry, sweetie," she muttered. Ugh. How had Rowan approached without her noticing _again_? The door creaked open. Rowan slipped in.

 _Looks like you_ still _haven't completed your training_ , his eyes smirked. Aelin rolled her eyes.

"Out loud," Myshe demanded, her brows scrunched in annoyance. Aelin gave Rowan a warning glance. Myshe was already upset.

"Hey," Rowan said softly, looking into Myshe's eyes. She stared back. "I do get scary dreams sometimes."

"When?" she asked. "I thought you never got scared." Rowan walked over to the other side of the bed and lied down beside Myshe. Aelin remembered that she liked being between the two of them-it made her feel safe. Myshe snuggled into Rowan's chest, and then switched to Aelin's. She seemed torn. Aelin bit her lip to keep from grinning.

"I get scared when I have dreams that you or Mama gets hurt," Rowan said softly. "One time, before you were in Mama's tummy, she got really hurt, and I got really scared." Aelin swallowed. She slid her eyes to Rowan's face. Flashes of memories from the iron coffin came back. Rowan winced, feeling her emotions through the bonds that connected them.

"Oh," came Myshe's soft voice.

"Myshe, sweetie?" Aelin asked quietly. "Did you know that when I get scared, I say 'My name is Aelin Galathynius, and I will not be afraid'?" Rowan's head turned. Aelin didn't acknowledge it.

"No, but I wanna try," Myshe said, her eyes bright. "My name is Myset Galididius and I will not be afraid." Aelin snorted.

"Gal-ath-in-ee-us," she offered, not bothering to correct Myshe on her first name, as she still couldn't make a "sh" sound.

"I said that. Galiddidius," she argued, brows narrowing in frustration. Aelin bit her lip to keep from laughing. Myshe flopped down onto her pillow.

She was on the verge of falling asleep. Aelin ran her fingers through the princess's hair until she did so. Once her breathing steadied, Aelin allowed her muscles to relax. She glanced at Rowan and slid off of the bed, Rowan following close behind. They slipped out, Rowan closing the door behind them. Aelin silently padded down the hall, Rowan's arm around her waist. When the finally made it to their room, Aelin flopped down on the bed, sighing.

"Are you alright?" Rowan asked after a moment. The Queen of Terrasen took a shuddering breath.

"I'm fine...it's just...she's so young..." Rowan walked over to his mate and lied down beside her, sliding his arm around her middle.

"She'll get through it, Aelin. We all will."

 **AN: Hi. I'm not dead. Sorry.**

 **Soon I'll write a ToG and ACOTAR crossover, possibly other Sarah J. Maas crossovers, too. jUsT yOu WaIt (NO, THAT WASN'T A "HAMILTON" REFERENCE)**

 **Please review. Thank you to the people who took the time to review so far.**

 **I usually don't respond to reviews, but I will if you ask me to-don't take it personally if I didn't respond.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: This chapter is going to make a lot more sense if you've read KoA, but if you haven't, there aren't any spoilers.**

It was scary in here.

Myshe whimpered and dove under the covers. Why did Mama make her stay with Lord Aedion and Lady Lysandra? Myshe knew Mama was going on a trip with Daddy, but why couldn't she come with them? When she had tried to ask Lord Aedion about it, he told her that they were having a special night for just the two of them, because they're mates and they're married. Myshe didn't believe him. She thought they were in danger. They never brought her places when where they were going was dangerous.

Whatever the reason, it was plain awful that she wasn't allowed along. These sheets smelled weird, not like the ones she usually slept in. In fact, this whole section of the castle smelled weird.

The rooms were smaller than the royal quarters, but that was okay. That wasn't the issue. It was even draftier in her than it was in her bedchamber, and it was always cold in her bedchamber. In her bedchamber, though, if she got cold, she could just go to her parents' bedchamber and snuggle between the two of them for warmth. She never _stayed_ cold. Here, there was no space between Mama and Daddy. And if she got nightmares of the scary fae, there would be no one to comfort her. Myshe let out a tiny whimper. It wasn't fair!

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Myshe watched as Lord Aedion poked his head in the doorway.

"Are you all right?" he asked her quietly. He probably heard her whimpering. Lord Aedion didn't have any children of his own, so Myshe knew he didn't really know how to comfort her. Another reason why leaving her with them was a bad idea.

Myshe just nodded. She wouldn't show weakness. Asterin Havilliard told her that weakness and being scared were the same things, and Asterin was the smartest and bestest witchling Myshe knew. Actually, Asterin was the _only_ witchling Myshe knew, and she hadn't seen her since last Yulemas. Yes, Myshe knew her mother, Manon, but she wasn't a witchling, even though King Dorian called her that for some reason.

A small smile spread across Lord Aedion's face. "I don't believe you." Myshe glared at him. Daddy always said she looked like her mother when she did that, and Mama was really scary when she glared at people. But Lord Aedion looked like he was trying not to laugh. Myshe scowled at him. Lord Aedion was mean, and Myshe told him as much. Lord Aedion snorted. "Myshe, it's okay to be scared." She eyed him suspiciously, not understanding his intentions.

"Asterin says being scared is being weak," Myshe told him pointedly. Lord Aedion rolled his eyes so hard she wondered if it hurt.

"Princess Asterin is full of sh-er, I mean, she doesn't know what she's talking about," he finished quickly. Myshe covered her mouth with her hand.

"But Asterin-"

"Is only ten, just like you," Lord Aedion interrupted. "She's not even a year older than you. Yes, I know she's a witch, but that doesn't make her a battle genius. I've fought on more battlefields than she could ever dream of, and I can tell you that being scared isn't weakness. It's better to be scared. If you are scared, that's good. A little bit of fear is what drives us to perform our best. The more brash you are and the bigger your head gets, the more likely you are to make a mistake.

"As for true weakness," he continued, "that comes from selfishness. When you're only fighting for yourself, your cause is weak and doesn't mean much. If you can fight on behalf of your kingdom, your friends, or your family, then you have so much more strength on your side." Myshe stared at him with wide eyes.

"But I don't want to fight," the princess said quietly. "And I don't want to take my mother's crowns-either of them." Lord Aedion's gaze softened.

"Maybe you won't have to fight-wars aren't too common. As for ruling, one day it will be easier. You'll understand someday, Your Highness," Lord Aedion murmured, using her title jokingly to make her feel better. It only did the opposite to said Highness. Myshe flopped down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She wanted him to go now. Nobody understood, even Asterin. She wanted to be the Blackbeak Matron one day, and all Myshe wanted to be was free.

As Lord Aedion left, she forced away the tears that were threatening to spill over. Why did she have to be born into this lifestyle? Her only friend was Asterin, and she lived so far away. Lochan was mean, and besides, he was so much older than her. Lady Westfall was okay, Myshe guessed, but she was even older than Lochan, and still lived in the wrong kingdom. The princess let out a long sigh. She didn't even like music. Playing the pianoforte was boring, and sitting at one of those shows in The Lion's Theatre was even worse. Myshe was so different from her mother in many other ways, but was similar in the fact that her favorite part of fighting was the footwork. She loved leaping around, landing on her toes, being in a position where one wrong move ruined the whole thing. She would even say that fighting was almost like dancing, but dancing happened in stuffy ballrooms, tight corsets, and shoes that pinched her feet.

Even though Myshe liked the footwork, she didn't really like to fight. She hated getting hurt, and she always forgot her defensive moves, so that happened quite often. No, it was much better to run alone in the forests on the castle grounds just outside of the royal wing. It was much better to wear her leathers when she leapt over creeks and scrambled up trees. There, she was at peace. Myshe might only have been ten, but she knew her future would consist of marrying some prince or lord she didn't care about. She knew that running alone in the woods was a thing to be kept secret, even from her parents. They would think it was strange, and would forbid her from doing so. Myshe wondered if her mother ever tried to sneak out of the castle when she was ten years old. It didn't matter. All that did was enjoying the moments she had while they lasted.

 **AN: This was random, sorry. I didn't really have an idea, but if you're going to read the story about Myshette that I will one day post, pay attention to the last bit. The whole thing, actually, is pretty important for that story.**

 **(Yeah, I know ten year olds probably a bit more mature, but I made the chapter like this because reasons.)**

 **Reviews? Requests?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Myshe's age: 5**

Myshette Whitethorn Galathynius was lost. Completely lost. She had been walking around the city with Fenrys, which was fun, but then she scented cookies. And she was sure they were sugar cookies, which were only ever available near Yulemas (it was the middle of the summer). So, naturally, Myshe did what any reasonable person would do. She wandered away from Fenrys in pursuit of the cookies, and she felt her magic blow her scent in the opposite direction. Myshe smiled at that-it was rare that her magic cooperated with her wishes.

After she let go of the golden-haired warrior's hand, Myshe simply followed her nose. It took her down the street of shops and upstairs apartments, past the fountain built in remembrance of those who fell in the second Valg wars, around the corner onto a street of bakeries-

She paused. Where did the treats go? She was so sure she had smelled them, so Myshe kept wandering, now with no trail to follow.

* * *

"What are you doing in this part of the city, girl?" a woman's voice asked. Myshe looked up at her, wide-eyed. She found herself in a filthy alley, and heard laughing, moaning, and screaming from the various buildings. She had been out for most of the day now, and her stomach grumbled at her lack of lunch. An hour or so ago, she tried to find her way back to the castle, but with every turn it just seemed to grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

The princess began shaking. She started to back out of the alley, never breaking eye contact with the beautiful woman. Her dress pushed up her breasts in a way that she had never seen in her own court, and it was short. Too short. A tattoo snaked around her wrist.

Myshe didn't know what, exactly, Lady Lysandra had done before she met her mother, but she knew enough about it to recognize the people she needed to run from. This woman in the alley was one of them. Myshe desperately wished she was better at shifting-when she tried to fly away in her hawk form, the magic wouldn't rise to her skin.

"Where are your parents, child?" The woman's voice was gentle-sweet, even. But her eyes gleamed with the promise of danger. Myshe wasn't about to stick around to find out what, exactly, this woman had planned. "Come with me, and I'll give you a treat," she went on, "and then we'll go find your parents." Myshe knew that she should do no such thing, but then she hesitated, remembering the cookies from earlier in the day.

"What kind of treat?" she asked softly. The woman's smile grew, exposing a gleaming silver tooth. She took a step forward, and Myshe flinched.

"I'm glad you're interested," she crooned. "Sugar cookies, of course. The kind you receive at Yulemas." The woman started walking towards Myshe now, and the princess decided that even sugar cookies weren't worth whatever horrors waited for her if she went with the woman. She turned to run.

The laugh that sounded behind her sounded too much like a cackle. Myshe just kept running, feeling her magic flare up to her skin. She shivered.

 _Not now,_ she told it. Begged it. Ice danced below her skin.

"Arnold, get her!" the woman snarled. New footsteps sounded from behind. A man's, judging by his gait. Myshe kept running, and when she heard the sound of a dart from behind, she ducked. When she picked her head up, she saw the dart would have missed her head anyways, as it was stuck in the neck of a man who lay crumpled on the ground-bottle of whiskey in hand-to her left. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Where was she?

More darts fired, and by a combination of the princess's magic and training, none of them found their mark. The man, Arnold, kept chasing her. With every step, Myshe felt her fear growing. Her silver hair kept falling in her eyes, but she didn't dare push it out. It covered up her fae ears, anyways, which kept the reason for her endurance from the strange man.

Even so, she could feel herself tiring, and knew that if she was going to make it through this chase, she had to find a place to hide.

" _There's shame in hiding,"_ Lochan had said last Yulemas. " _Only cowards hide."_ She had asked her father about it later. He had scowled and told her not to listen to Kaedyn Lochan for training advice. " _Actually,"_ he'd added, " _go ahead and add Asterin Blackbeak-Crochan to that list. She tends to tell you the wrong things, too."_ Then, he had crouched down and looked her in the eye. " _If you're ever in danger,"_ he'd said with serious eyes, " _and you can't win in a fight against your opponent, you run, Myshe. Your safety is always the most important."_

Myshe paid attention to that advice now, searching for a safe street to turn onto. She might find a little shop to duck into.

* * *

Hours earlier, Fenrys Moonbeam found himself in a bit of a predicament. He'd spotted a flower cart and was about to offer Myshe a flower for her hair- _a pretty flower for such a pretty lady_ -when he'd looked down to find her gone.

Fenrys considered himself to be fairly calm in dire situations.

But this was so much more than a dire situation. He'd lost Myshe. The little Whitethorn was worse than her mother when it came to raising hell, and just as powerful with using her magic to hide her trail (even if it wasn't intentional) as her father.

Rowan was going to kill him-if Aelin didn't get to him first. Gods, what was he supposed to do? He'd spent the better part of the morning searching (in fae and wolf form) and asking around about the princess. No, the baker that Myshe always wanted to buy cookies from hadn't seen her. Yes, the sky had been clear of hawks. No, no strange ice or wind had appeared out of nowhere. Yes, Madame Lillith had been prowling the streets, looking for orphaned girls to add to her brothel.

The last one caused him to send a small group of guards to the slums of Orynth to shut that down. Lysandra had convinced Aelin to do her best to do away with prostitution years ago.

Finally, Fenrys decided to head back to the palace-even if it had to be shamefully-to recruit the rest of his guards, Aelin, and Rowan in the search. Gods, they were going to kill him.

But if he was being honest, his impending death was the least of his problems. Myshe was missing. _Myshe_. Who listened to everything told to her with wide eyes and an innocent heart. Who had just as much magic as her father and less desire to learn how to use it than Lorcan had desire to be pleasant at court gatherings. She had basic self-defense training at this point, but that would hardly suffice against Lillith and her various guards.

He took some comfort in the fact that even if Lillith captured the young princess, her silver hair, pointed ears, and spontaneous magic were dead giveaways to anyone living in Orynth as to who she was. Myshe couldn't be hidden.

As he strode up to the entrance to the castle that was used most often by its residents-a small, guarded door around a corner from the formal main entrance-Fenrys's face was stone. One of his guards nodded at him, but the warrior didn't waste time with formalities.

"Find a messenger to tell the various guards around the city to search for the Crown Princess." The boy's eyes widened, but it was clear that he knew better than to say anything to Fenrys as he nodded. He moved into the castle to follow his orders. Fenrys glanced at the other guard (a friend of his) and rubbed his brow.

"Good luck with Her Majesty," the man snorted. "You're really in for it this time." The guard quirked a brow, brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don't worry," he said, "she'll show up. She always does." Fenrys shook his head. Usually, Fenrys didn't mind disrespect from his guards (particularly this one), but today wasn't just any day.

"She's never disappeared while in the city. It's one thing for her to wander into a corridor no one knows about. It's another for her to disappear with Lillith on the loose." Fenrys spoke with the same ice he'd heard in Rowan and Lorcan's voice when they were still serving Maeve. Blood drained from the guard's face at those words. He was silent. Fenrys dropped his voice so that no one-even someone with fae hearing-in his vicinity could hear. "That information doesn't leave this conversation. Clear?" A curt nod. The fact that Lillith was out would likely cause an uproar amongst the nobility, and that was something that Fenrys didn't have time for.

If the castle had been empty, Fenrys would have shifted and run up to the council room where Rowan and Aelin were currently in a meeting in wolf form. Unfortunately, the various servants were easy to spook and quick to spread rumors. Terrasen's inner circle may have been built on friendship and righteousness, but the rest of the court was still a court. Gossip spread like wildfire, and stories shifted quicker than the Lady of Carraverre. With every step, Fenrys's heart pounded louder in his chest.

When he made it to the council room, he didn't bother with knocking as he shoved open the door.

"Captain Moonbeam-" one of the lords started. He held up a hand to silence him, consequences of disrespecting superiors be damned.

"I need to talk to you and Aelin," he panted, speaking to Rowan in the Old Language. To hell with not upsetting the other members of the castle, he supposed. Nothing made them more skittish than when the fae didn't talk in the common tongue (as if they were planning a mutiny, or something). Fenrys silently cursed himself for using the Old Language, but it was what he'd grown up with, and whenever he was particularly nervous or scared, it was usually what rolled off of his tongue.

He saw Rowan glance at Aelin-likely conveying the message to her through their silent language-while the room broke out with various reprimands aimed at him.

"Captain, with all due respect-"

"Speaking that language in our presence-"

"I knew that brute was an awful choice for Captain of the Guard-"

Rowan and Aelin walked over to him, the latter putting a hand on his shoulder. She glanced at him, almost-hidden concern flashing through her turquoise eyes. "I can smell your fear," she murmured. The queen turned to the council. They fell silent as she addressed them. "If Captain Moonbeam has important news," she said coldly, "then we will hear it. I assume that he didn't run all this way to ask about dinner." Fenrys felt Rowan's eyes desperately searching his face, and he ignored the question of _Myshe?_ that was sure to be written across his face.

Aelin quirked an eyebrow and gave him a look that clearly meant _Well?_ , but Fenrys shook his head. Her annoyance at this meeting being interrupted would be nothing next to how she would react when she learned that he'd lost her daughter in the middle of Orynth. He jerked his head towards the hall.

"You two need to hear something."

* * *

Myshe had found a little embroidery shop with racks of dresses she could hide in, then later continued wandering down the streets. The sun was beginning to set, and she was scared. Daddy had told her about wicked men who prowled the dirty parts of Orynth at night, and that she must do everything in her power not to let them take her. Arnold had to be one of those men.

"What are you doing in here, little girl?" asked a voice from behind her. She started, and didn't dare to turn around. Myshe ran out of the shop, and she couldn't stop shaking as she heard the several pairs of feet in pursuit. The magic was getting harder to keep at bay, but the freezing wind chilling her blood wasn't what scared her.

It was the lick of flame that shot out of her hand.

Myshe cried out, finally unleashing the wind and ice. That fire…she hadn't known it was there. It _shouldn't_ have been there. Galathynius blood was thin as gruel compared to her Whitethorn blood-as diluted as it might have been. The men behind her shouted as they thudded to a now-icy street. Her eyes burned with tears-with the _impossibility_ of ever getting a grip on the horrible magic.

A misplaced step had her tumbling to the ground, but not before she saw a short woman walking towards her from the direction of a pond.

A pond that she had frozen solid.

* * *

Aelin stormed out of the castle, using all of her willpower to keep herself from turning Fenrys into a human torch. Rowan had already shifted, choosing to scan for their missing daughter from the skies. Not for the first time, the queen wished she had an animal form. Her fae body was too recognizable, and a frantic queen would send a fairly bad message to her citizens. She had to stay calm.

The idea was ridiculous. Stay calm? When Myshe could be anywhere-the slums, a brothel, on the ground with a knife through her-

No. Aelin refused to think that way. And if any of those things did happen to Myshe, she wouldn't bother leashing her magic the next time it shot to Fenrys.

She tried to keep a straight face as she walked through the streets, sniffing and scanning for the silver-haired girl. Briefly, she saw a hawk land on a nearby rooftop, only to take off right afterwards. The light was running out, and-

"Mommy?" Aelin whipped her head to the side. A tall, slender woman with hair tied in a tight bun was holding her daughter's hand. _Myshe_. Myshe was safe. A choked sob escaped Aelin's throat, and she ran to her, wrapping her arms tightly enough around the princess that she squirmed. "I'm fine, Mommy." Aelin crouched down, holding her daughter's face in her hands. Myshe was making an annoyed face, and clearly believed her mother was being overbearing. Aelin half expected her next words to be "territorial fae bastard"-she knew that was the same look on her own face whenever she said those words to Rowan. She almost smiled.

Aelin straightened, suddenly remembering the woman. "Thank you," she said tightly. "One of our guards took her into the city today and..." She shook her head. The woman gave a small smile.

"Your Majesty," she said softly, "your daughter is quite gifted." Aelin blinked.

"How do you mean?" she asked as a hawk landed on her shoulder.

"It's the middle of summer and she froze an entire pond." Rowan shifted at that, landing beside Aelin in a flash of light. Myshe ran to him and grabbed his leg. He ruffled her hair before grabbing her hand. Aelin knew he likely wouldn't be letting go. The woman tilted her head.

"I instruct Orynth's figure skating group. The pond she froze is one of our practice areas. In the summer, members of the group grow their strength and improve their balance. Now, however," she said, smiling at Myshe. The little girl beamed in response. "Now, a handful of them are practicing, and it seems to be a pity for this to happen near nightfall."

"My daughter's magic remains unpredictable," Rowan said. "I'm afraid that freezing an entire pond isn't something she's prone to doing on command." Myshe scowled and tried to drop her hand. He refused to let go, and Aelin bit her lip to keep from smiling at the battle between the Tiny Tyrant and her father.

"Let Miss Gwen talk," she demanded. Rowan coughed-a failed attempt to hide a laugh. That little girl had him wrapped around her finger.

"I understand her power is raw and untamed, Your Highness." Her voice was smooth. "I don't mean use her power to freeze a pond, but rather, I have a request." Myshe seemed to take that as her cue to turn to her mother and give Aelin her signature puppy dog eyes. Those eyes were deadlier than any weapon Maeve had ever wielded, and her cunning little pinecone knew it. "I was wondering, if, perhaps, Princess Myshette might learn to figure skate. I start most children at her age." Aelin blinked in surprise.

"Well..."

"Please, Mommy? Please please please? I promise I'll work really hard on my magic if you let Miss Gwen teach me." Aelin looked at Rowan. She deliberately avoided Myshe's eyes.

 _I don't see why not_ , his eyes said, and he shrugged. Then he added, _Your choice. But please, be quick. She's about to break all the bones in my hand if she grips it any tighter._ Aelin snorted. One of the corners of her lips twitched up.

"You, young lady," she said, finally making eye contact with Myshe, "will spend the next week helping muck out the stables." A glare from the princess. "But," Aelin added, "once you finish your punishment for sneaking away from Captain Moonbeam, you may start training." Myshe's eyes lit up, and she looked at Miss Gwen. The young woman grinned at her. At the exchange, Aelin realized that she likely wouldn't be able to keep her daughter away from the ice if she tried.

That night, Myshe had gone to bed without a fuss, saying that the sooner she went to sleep, the sooner she would put on skates. It seemed that Aelin was correct.

 **Feel free to leave a review and tear my writing apart! I write fic to get better at it. :)**

 **Juliette: omg thank you! you made my day! :)**


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